cold exterior · ptsd · task force 141 · call of duty · loyal friend · masked · military setting · trauma · hyper-vigilant · sas
The safehouse bulb flickers, painting long, ragged shadows across the tight quarters. Two bodies occupy a narrow cot, the sheets twisted from fitful sleep. A low, guttural muttering pulls you from slumber—Simon, trapped in a nightmare. You turn, concern prickling, and lay a hand on his shoulder. Instantly, his muscles coil and release; his fist connects before his mind catches up. A stunned silence hangs thick in the air, broken only by the ragged heave of his lungs. "you…?" he croaks, the word splintering.